


Water

by Ladycat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Biting, Blood, Dark, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A low, smooth chuckle, hearkening back to soft things of green and short, furry tufts rolls over Xander. It doesn't make him want to retch and heave, so he leans back with a sigh, unsurprised to feel strong arms go around him, a cool back taking his weight. Spike's good at this. He takes care of Xander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water

The world resembles nothing so much as popcorn, spilled on a dirty, stick movie floor. There's land, mutated, bulbous things that jut up from the dark, tainted waters, but they're dangerous places to inhabit. Boats are safer, at least for now.

Xander fucking hates boats.

Leaning over a railing, he watches as silvered skins slip below him. They're tuna, Spike says; or at least they were. The waters are darkened to an unnatural gray, clinging to the sides of the boat and the fish when the pop up, frolicking because they're too stupid to realize there's nothing left to frolic for.

He isn't going to be sick again. He really can't afford to be sick, because food is in scarce supply and Xander's eating for two. That doesn't make much of an impression on his stomach, though, which he holds with one hand, the other white-knuckled around the wooden railing. He really, really hates boats. Every morning he wakes up and hates them just a little more.

"You'll feel better if you come away from there." Spike's at the helm, a demented duck to slick, sticky waters, smiling calmly as he twirls the wheel. 

It's a suck metaphor, but Xander thinks he can be excused from bad metaphors. Five months they've lived like this, and he's hanging on to sanity with teeth and toenails. Well, mostly teeth and toenails. Sometimes he has help. "No," he says. God, his voice sounds as green as his face probably is. "It's worse further in. I can feel the swells without _seeing_ them." Even thinking about that makes him gag, clutching tightly.

A low, smooth chuckle, hearkening back to soft things of green and short, furry tufts rolls over Xander. It doesn't make him want to retch and heave, so he leans back with a sigh, unsurprised to feel strong arms go around him, a cool back taking his weight. Spike's good at this. He takes care of Xander.

"Mm, pet." A cool nose nuzzles against Xander's neck and cheek. "I'm hungry, pet. Come let me have a taste, yeah?"

Xander's not good at remembering days, but he's pretty sure it was just yesterday that Spike had had another 'taste'. "Maybe tomorrow? C'mon, Spike, you can't afford to have be go anemic. You know that." But he's tilting his head, giving Spike access because there's nothing better than Spike's breath cooling the ever-present sweat on his neck.

"Sh, love, hush. I take good care of you, don't I?"

A hand slides under the loose cloth Xander's hobbled together for pants, cupping his cock and rubbing it hard. He doesn't resist. Just spreads his legs wider with a soft, throaty moan. "Yes, Spike. You take care of me."

"Don't you think you owe me, then? I rescued you, after all. Took you away from those bastards who wanted a quick meal. Weren't thinking at all, the tossers." Spike holds his cock, hard and eager, stroking it lightly as he runs blunt teeth up Xander's neck. "You taste sweet, pet. Let me have a bit. It's only my due."

"But ..." It's hard to think with Spike jacking him, slow and hard, working his cock with expert attentions. The nausea he's felt for hours swirls into the arousal, leaving him lightheaded and totally dependent on Spike to keep him upright. To _keep_ him, he thinks dazedly. "I'll need -- "

"Know what you need. You just hush and let Spike take care of you. Give me a taste and I'll give you what you need. That's right. Say yes, pet. Say you'll let me."

He's wheedling, except he's not. Xander knows there's something wrong, something not _right_ , but he's sick, and tired, and the only humans he's come across have been as bad as the demons who hunt him. It's so hard to think all the time, but worse when Spike breathes soft, scented air against his skin, his cool hands so perfect as he gives Xander so much. Gives him a place to stay, food to eat. Why shouldn't Xander give him this?

"You'll kill me," he croaks, rolling his hips into Spike's grip. It's not a 'no'.

Spike licks along his neck, a doctor wiping the skin clean before insertion. "No, pretty. You're no use at all to me dead. But I'm hungry, pet. I'm so _hungry_."

There's nothing of the cocky, often foolish vampire Xander sometimes dreams about in Spike's voice. It's all animal, cold, inhumanly smooth skin pressed against his jaw and cheek as ice-sharp teeth slide into the scars on his neck. They always heal the next day, Xander knows, moaning and thrusting helplessly as his body does what Spike's wants. Just a scar, marking him, protecting him. Spike's good at protecting him. He takes care of Xander, makes sure he's okay. Makes him see pretty colors as he starts coming, all over Spike's still moving hand, until it hurts, god, it hurts so much, Spike's teeth digging furrows of broken red flesh, taking everything from him, and it's okay, it's good, because he takes care of Xander. That's what he does. He takes care of Xander, and gives him what he needs, so he must need this too, right?

He does, Xander thinks as his bloody neck is released, Spike shoving past fabric to enter Xander, loose and ready because Spike needs this. He tells Xander he needs it, and if he takes care of Xander, then Xander has to take care of him. And it's good, it's all good, even though it always hurts to come a second time.

"Here, love. Eat some of this, before I give you your treat. There's a good pet."

Sighing, Xander sucks thoughtfully around the damp, salt-bitter finger in his mouth, spreading his legs as Spike's thrusts speed up. He's glad Spike is there to take care of him. He doesn't like boats, after all. Doesn't like them at all.


End file.
